Reunion
by Ryder85
Summary: Instead of going with T'Pol to Vulcan after the Xindi mission, Trip goes home for a long awaited reunion, and takes Malcolm along with him. Chapter Two up- Malcolm's POV.
1. Trip

A/N: This idea is something that jumped up and bit me in the ass, and wouldn't let go until I got it down. I'm not giving up on Be Here Now, I'll be working on all my stuf simealtaneously, if I can handle it. This story was inspired by one a read where Malcolm and Trip are lovers, and they go home to Malcolm's parents for Christmas. It takes place after the Xindi mission is over. Instead of going to Vulcan with T'Pol, Trip takes Mal with him to Florida. It always occurred to me when watching the show that Trip would be great fun to hang around with, but due to his responsibilities on the ship, we never really get to see that side of him. So I wanted to write something where the only duties he had were to be an older brother, and an eldest son. I didn't want to have to come up with any great crisis for a focal point. This story is strictly about relationships, Malcolm to Trip, Trip to his family. I'm going to be using first person pov all the way through, but I'll be alternating between Trip and Malcolm. As always, please read and review. Honesty helps my writing!

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I'm still not entirely sure how I got to be here. The past two days leading up to now were pretty much a blur, likely my mind sub-consciously repressing the time for my overall mental health. Bits and pieces come back to me every now and again, like my second-in-command wishing me luck while tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. I remember taking one last tour around Engineering, certain in a way I had never felt before that I would never step foot on that particular deck plating again. I remember Captain Archer's stern face staring me down, telling me in no uncertain terms that if I was still on this ship when he made plans to leave, that I would soon find myself tumbling down to the planet's surface without the benefit of an environmentalized shuttlecraft. I remember saying goodbye to Hoshi, Travis and Phlox, who were heading down in the first shuttle. The whole affair has such a finality about it that even as I stand here waiting, I can feel my chest tightening with anxiety. 

"Are you sure your mother won't mind me being there?"

I turn slowly to the pair of steel grey eyes that I'm certain have been studying me for some time. I manage a slight smile, more for Malcolm's benefit that an actual expression of my feelings. "No, Mal, she won't mind. The more the merrier in her house."

I don't tell him that he will likely be taking Her place at the dinner table. That the only reason I asked him on this visit was to act as a buffer between me and the rest of my family. I had been there when Captain Archer had ordered all his senior staff off ship for at the very least two weeks. And I had been there when Malcolm had resorted to pleading to stay onboard the ship. So maybe it wasn't entirely for selfish reasons that I asked him to come with me to my parents house. He was all too eager to accept; I'm pretty sure that to him, the thought of spending time with my family, despite the number of unknown variables, was preferable to spending time with his own. I wonder what he would think if he knew that I was dreading this reunion just as much as he would one with his parents. I hadn't seen them since before...the attack. My own parents, that is. Afterwards, there was just too much to take care of, overseeing the repairs to Enterprise and making sure my crew was taken care of. At least, that's what I told them when they asked why I couldn't visit. That wasn't the truth though. I knew that Captain Archer would've done all that he could to ensure I could spend some time with my fragmented family, despite the strain it would inevitabley put on his own time off. But I didn't want that. I didn't want to see my mother torn apart from the loss, or my remaining siblings looking to me for an explanation. Seeing my family grieve for my baby sister would've reminded me that I hadn't yet.

The tight hissing sound of a vacuum being created broke into my thoughts. I watched as the seal indicator turned green, then the door obligingly slid open. Being the gentlemanly officers Malcolm and I were, we waited until everyone else had boarded before stepping inside. I only recognized a few people in our group, a variety of faces I had seen only in the mess hall and wouldn't have been able to place anywhere else. The rest of our shift, including Doctor Phlox, had since departed. Everyone except Malcolm and I had long ago changed into civilian clothes; we had been working right up until the deadline and hadn't had the time. We stowed our bags in the overhead compartment, and took seats near the back of the shuttle. A nervous chattering filled the craft; muttered conversations between co-workers for the sole purpose of taking up time until landing. Once the shuttle hit Earth, and those doors opened, these relationships would be forgotten for a full two weeks, and picked up again on a similar shuttle, taking us back up to Enterprise. I glanced to Malcolm on my left. Well, the majority of these relationships.

"How many of your family members are going to be at your parents house?"he asked, tearing his attention away from his fingernails long enough to look me in the eyes. I studied his face for a minute before answering. He had assured me back on the ship that he wasn't in the least bit nervous about meeting my family. Actually, his exact words had been "They can't possibly be worse than mine!" I was going to hate proving him wrong in both cases; I had come to know him well enough while serving on Enterprise to notice the tight lines around his mouth, the tiny beads of sweat gathering across the bridge of his nose, as signs of anxiety. And he was right to be afraid. Next to me, he was going to be the star guest. All eyes would be on him all the time, and for a man like Malcolm, who was content to blend right into the wallpaper in most social situations, that kind of attention would be terrifying. I knew it was a real testament to our friendship that he was willing to go through all that to help me out. Or to get away from his parents. I hadn't decided yet what his motivation for accepting my invitation was.

Instead of telling him all this, I merely smiled. "Not that many; don't worry. My siblings, some aunts and uncles, probably a couple of nieces and nephews. No big deal."

He nodded stiffly, but I could see the colour begin to drain from his face. I would've cushioned the blow further, but it was far too late to turn back now. The trip to the surface was already half over.

"How many siblings do you have? I mean, how many did you, um, you know, before..."

His verbal train wreck was so uncharacteristic that I decided to save him from it before he swallowed his own tongue. "I have three, now, Malcolm."

He seemed to take that answer as a request for silence, and after a brief nod, went back to inspecting his fingernails. What he was hoping to find, I'm not sure. My family's personal hygiene standards aren't all that high, after living through my childhood. For the most part they were content if I had remembered to shower in the past three days. Nobody would be checking under Malcolm's fingernails for dirt or debris.

As we neared the surface docking port, conversation slowly dwindled into nothing. People leaned as close to their windows as they could get, hoping to catch a glimpse of their families before we disembarked. I stayed in my seat, and taking a que from me, Malcolm did the same. The pilot came over the speaker then, thanking us for being such pleasant passengers, and wishing us luck and good times on our leave. I wasn't sure I was going to get either, but I appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

Malcolm grabbed our bags, and we joined the stream of people leaving the shuttle, and merged into the river of people in the port. "Someone's gonna be waiting for us out front,"I said to Malcolm over my shoulder. I didn't hear his response, if there was one, but that didn't matter. I knew that I could suddenly sprout wings and take off into the air, and Mal would be right behind me. I couldn't lose him in the crowd if I tried.

We made it to the main entrance of the spaceport without incident, and I burst out into the bright, Florida sunshine with a genuine smile on my face. It felt like a lifetime since I had been under this sun, and in a way it was. The last time I had realized it, had appreciated it, and not just been numb with grief, was before boarding Enterprise and leaving the solar system. It felt like coming home more than anything else. I turned to grin at Malcolm, and was momentarily startled by just how pale he was. More so than could account for being in space for the past three years. He treated the sunshine as though it were nothing but a nuisance, grimacing at the humid warmth and shielding his eyes with his hand.

"Someone's meeting us here,"I told him again, in case he hadn't heard the first time. He nodded in a way that made me think he hadn't, and I turned to survey the long line of cars parked at the curb. I had no idea who was meeting us, so I didn't have the first clue of what kind of car to be on the lookout for. As it happens, I didn't have to worry. Malcolm and I were pretty hard to miss anyways; we stood out more than a little in the throngs of tourists thanks to our dark blue uniforms.

I could see glimpses of a familiar tousled blond head in the crowd, moving about in quick darting movements. Connor, my younger and only brother, had hair the same shade as my own, though he wore his in a decidedly non-Starfleet reg style. He looked so much like me, down to the shape of the jaw and ski-slope nose, that if not for the nine year age difference, we could've been passed off as twins.

I glanced at Malcolm to tell him to be on the look-out for a younger version of me, when a flash of demin and white cotton came flying at me from the crowd.

"Trip!"Connor shrieked, and I was momentarily brought back fifteen years. He had greeted me in similar ways when he was eight, but at twenty three I was kinda hoping he had kicked the habit. I dropped my bag on the sidewalk to favour him with a two armed hug. Malcolm retrieved my duffle, and stepped a few feet away, watching the embrace with a bemused smile on his lips. After a long minute, I pulled away to study my brother more closely. He had grown in the three years since I had seen him last. The acne that had plagued his teenage years had cleared up, and thanking God, I noticed he had stopped trying to grow a goutee. Up until now, I had been so busy with the ship, and then dreading this visit, that I didn't stop to realize how much I missed my siblings. The relief I felt at seeing my younger brother alive and well tightened my chest and made breathing difficult. Unaware, he flashed me an ear to ear grin.

"It's good to see you, Trip. Mom's so happy you could make it this time." He glanced over my shoulder, and spotted Malcolm looking rather conspicuous in a matching blue uniform. Connor caught my eye again. "Is this the guy?"

I flashed him a warning look (Connor had a tendency to stick it to anyone he deemed uptight, and just being my friend didn't grant exception or absolution), then grabbed Malcolm by the wrist and dragged him closer. "Mal, this is my brother Connor. Connor, this is Malcolm Reed. He serves with me on Enterprise."

Connor looked pointedly at the patch on Mal's left arm, and rolled his eyes. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Connor,"Malcolm stated, and offered his hand. I could see a war waging in my younger brothers eyes, but it was the barely perceptable shake of my head that decided it. He seemed to realize it would do him more harm than good to piss me off so early in the visit. So he treated Malcolm with his most charming smile, and accepted the hand.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Reed. My brother has told me so much about you."

I rolled my eyes and shoved them both towards the parking lot before he could lay it on any thicker. "So, Con. Who exactly is gonna be at this little reunion?"

Connor chuckled slightly. "A better question would be who isn't gonna be there. Uncle Frank and Aunt Sheila are already at the house. Aunt Joan, Shawn and Kevin are due in tomorrow, so is Uncle Lloyd. Day after Aunt Cindy, Uncle Gary and Bryan are flying in. This was last I heard. There could be later additions." He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "Your homecoming is quite an affair, bro."

"I thought you said no big deal. I believe your exact words were 'Not that many; don't worry.'" Malcolm glared at me through narrowed lids. I had to admit that he did my accent better justice than I could hope to give his. Connor reacted immediately, bursting into laughter and slapping Malcolm on the shoulder. I shrugged. "Dunno what to tell you, Mal. Our family, this isn't a big deal. There are a lot more Tuckers spread around this country. Canada too. And that's only my father's side." If at all possible, Malcolm grew even paler.

Still laughing, Connor came to a stop next to a little rusted out hatchback that had seen so many repairs, it's original make and paint colour was indeterminable. He laid a hand on the roof, beaming with pride. My eyebrows rose at that; there was a time when Connor would've waited for my approval before buying a car, let alone grow such an obvious attachment to one.

"You like 'er, Trip? She's all mine. Bought her myself. I've been restoring her too."

I reached out to run my fingers along the hood appreciatively, and nodded. "Yeah, she's a beaut, Scooter. Maybe I can lend you a hand while I'm here."

If Conner took offense to my using his childhood nickname, he didn't show it. He simply opened the trunk after a brief fight and a long string of curses that made even Malcolm blush, and we threw our bags in. After another argument during which I nearly had to pull rank, I slid into the car's backseat, leaving the front for Malcolm. I was unsure of his reasoning for putting up a fuss; I didn't know if he was trying to be a gentleman, or if he just didn't want to sit next to my brother for the whole ride. The interior of the car had seen better days, it was stained and patched in places with ducttape. But the carpet and seating had been recently vacuumed, and the car smelled faintly of lemon cleaner.

After a few attempts, the hatchback roared to a start, and Connor pulled out of the parking spot with a squealing of the tires. I noticed Malcolm's white knuckled grip on the armrest, and thought that funny when considering the way we fly the shuttlepods. I wondered how long it would take him to realize who was the one who taught Connor how to drive.

The drive from the spaceport to my parents house wasn't all that long, and thankfully Connor filled the time by pointing out meaningless locations to Malcolm. The old highschool we all used to go to, the ice cream parlour the Tucker family single handedly kept in business, the intersection where I totalled our mom's brand new car. Malcolm took in all the sights with good nature, chuckling politely at all the right points and gaping in awe at the others. Every few miles or so, when Mal was otherwise occupied with dutiful looking, Connor would glance back at me through the rear view mirror, and chew his lip worriedly. I wasn't sure if he thought he was being surreptitious or not, but I did nothing to allay his obvious concern. The closer we got to our parents house, the more I wanted to turn around and go back. I wasn't sure if I could deal with their questions; about the Xindi, the mission, the weapon. I knew I wasn't allowed to say much more than the media reports did, but it was doubtful my family would accept that as an answer.

"Neighbourhood hasn't changed much, has it, Trip?"Connor asked, and again I felt his gaze on me. I only shook my head; it was past the point of him being able to draw me out in conversation. My fingers twitched where they rested on my knee; I had to fight the urge to rip open the car door and flee while it still moved. The only thing that stopped me was the thought of being seriously injured because of the momentum, and having to spend more than two weeks here.

We turned onto my parents street, and the first thing that hit me was the grouping of cars around my parents house. They still lived in the same two story, farm house imitation, complete with wraparound deck and porch swing. Pale yellow siding, light blue shutters. My mother was a gardening enthusiast, and that much was visible in the neatly trimmed gardens adorning the front yard. The house backed right onto the beach, and even included its own rickety wooden dock not visible fromt the street.

Connor parked down the street aways, the closest he could get without pulling up onto the front lawn. It took far too much effort to lever myself out of the backseat, and when I finally spilled out onto the sidewalk, Malcolm was there, shaking his head slightly.

"I told you I should've taken the backseat. My legs aren't as long as yours. It would've been easier on me."

"Yeah, yeah." I grimaced as the feeling returned to limbs that had been denied blood supply. "Just help me up, will ya?"

He hauled me to my feet, and after retrieving our bags from the trunk, we set off to the house.

"Trip." Connor appeared at my side, and fixed me with his now familiar look of concern. He made a show of looking me up and down. "Just a little warning, bro. Mom's been really fussy lately, I think it's a reaction to, um, what happened. And you look like shit. She's really gonna get on your case."

I felt my cheeks grow hot, and made a point not to look at Malcolm. "Yeah, well, running a starship is alotta damn work."

Connor only shrugged, and thankfully didn't push the issue any further. As we neared the house, the sound of laughter and good-natured chatter came around from the back. "Seems like the party's already started,"I muttered as we climbed the front steps. Malcolm and I dropped our bags by the front door, while Connor excused himself and slipped into the front hall.

The cedar planks that made up the porch continued around the side of the house, and out of sight of the road, opened up onto a twenty by fourty deck. It was hardly a surprise to hear the family back there; growing up here the majority of our meals had been eaten outdoors, on that deck or on the dock by the beach, with our toes hanging in the water. But now, so close to the action as to be able to make out seperate conversations, I found myself freezing up. My feet stuck to the deck as though the grav plates in the soles of my boots had been activated. I fell back against the siding, covering my face with trembling hands.

"I don't think I can do this, Mal. It's jes' too..."

I felt his hand on my shoulder, and could picture the look of surprised astonishment on his face better than if I had've glanced up at him. No doubt he had already decided exactly what my family was going to be like; any normal person would've made their own asumptions by now. And I was betting that my seeming inability to face them was directly opposite to the view of us he held.

"Trip, it can't be that bad. I'm sure they'll be happy to see you."

I could only wordlessly shake my head. I knew they would _ecstatic _to see me. Until they found out what I had done. Then I would be lucky if I was allowed to spend the rest of my leave here. But, if there was one thing serving on Enterprise has taught me, it was that there was no reason to put off the inevitable. I straightened slowly, rubbed fiercely at my face with my hands. Besides, living in such close quarters with so many people on the ship had taught me just how to keep private things private.

"You're right. It'll be fine. I'm jes' really tired, y'know?"

I took another deep breath, smoothed out the creases in the front of my uniform, and stepped around the side of the house.

The scene was a carbon copy of my childhood, with only mild differences that even I would be hardpressed to point out. The grown-ups, which now startingly included my sister and her husband, sat around the picnic table on the deck, munching on cold cuts and sipping iced tea. My younger sister, Connor, and my six year old nephew were tossing a tennis ball to Bedford along the great expanse of grass between the deck and the shores of the beach. Everyone was deeply involved in what they were doing, so I was allowed a scant few minutes to bask in the familarity before someone noticed us.

"_TRIP!"_

Not surprisingly, it was my oldest sister who saw me first. She stood quickly enough to knock a glass of iced tea out of her husband's hand in her haste to greet me. "Hiya, Maggie." I gratefully accepted her hug, lifted her off the ground briefly as I hugged her back. The various relatives in attendance soon caught on, and before I knew it I was in the middle of a giant Tucker family sandwich. I could hear someone thanking God, and another person holding back sobs. But we were all mashed in so closely it was hard to decide who was making what noise.

After a long five minutes, I remembered with a start that Malcolm still stood politely off to one side, waiting for the scene to come to an end and for him to be introduced. It took another full two minutes for me to disengage myself from the group hug.

"Guys, this is Malcolm Reed. He serves with me on Enterprise." I grabbed Malcolm by the front of his uniform, and pulled him closer. He seemed a little gun shy, as though he was wary of being caught in the middle of such an embrace. My family was more perceptive than that. My mother noticed his slight discomfort, and stuck out her hand, which he gratefully accepted.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all,"he said, and I noticed a few eyebrows raise in surprise at the stuffy British accent.

My mother waved the greeting off with her spare hand. "Malcolm, dear, the honour is ours. Anyone who can live on board that ship with my son, and not commit themselves to the looney bin is a friend of mine."

Malcolm grinned at me from the corner of his eye, but I only shook my head. They really had no idea what life was like on Enterprise, but I could hardly expect them to. It wasn't like I had done anything dissaude their erroneous beliefs. Introductions were made, but I was quite sure Malcolm wasn't going to hold on to any of them, and the instant we had a minute apart I would likely be refreshing his memory.

Now that my family was suitably occupied with someone other than me, I turned my comprehensive attentions onto them. My mother looked good; despite the bags under her eyes, I was pretty sure she was keeping it together all right. If I knew her at all, she probably felt she had to be strong for everyone else. My sister Margerat looked fantastic, despite the strain put on her life by the two year old baby on her hip. Her husband Todd stood behind her closely, one hand on her shoulder, and the other on the baby's back, as she made small talk with Malcolm. My other sister Samantha had lost weight, but whether it was on purpose or not I wasn't sure. I knew she had always had weight issues, as unnecessary as they were. Problem was, she had never listened to me when I told her she was beautiful the way she was. She was in school to become a police officer, so I assumed that it could be the effect the training was having on her body. My father was notably absent from the lunch, but that didn't surprise me in the least. He had barely been able to make time for me when I was planetside all the time. I could hardly expect him to find the time now. Despite my brother's previous warnings, Uncle Frank and Aunt Sheila were not attendance. At least, not that I could see.

An enthousiastic barking caught my attention, and with a grin, I slipped away from the group and headed down to the grass. For a twenty five year old golden retriever, Bedford was giving my nephew Dillan a run for his money. The dog that had practically raised me was now doing his best for the next generation of rambunctious Tuckers. As I neared their game of fetch, I let out a long, low whistle. Bedford's head shot up immediately, and the tennis ball he'd been carrying fell from his mouth. Despite Dillan's rather vocal protests, Bedford forgot the game and charged forward towards me. I dropped to my knees on the dew soaked grass, and threw my arms around the blond hairball as he leapt ontop of me.

"Uncle Trip! We were playing a game!" I waited until Dillan's plaintive wailing neared us, then stuck an arm out and pulled him into the fray. His squeal was ear shattering, but he didn't otherwise protest. After a short wrestle, Bedford and I decided we were far too old for such behaviour. I stood, taking Dillan with me and swinging him over my shoulder. Bedford trotted along happily as we headed back towards the deck, and with a smile, I noticed Malcolm was sitting at the centre of the table, no doubt regailing the family with stories of Enterprise's armoury. There was half eaten sandwich on the table in front of him, and my sister was pushing a glass of iced tea into his hand. He glanced up as I stomped up the stairs, and dropped Dillan down on the bench. "Mal, this rude little hellion here is my nephew Dillan. Maggie and Todd's son."

Malcolm inclined his head in a decidedly British greeting, then grinned as something seemed to occur to him. "I believe I owe you a debt of thanks,"he said to Dillan, extending his hand across the table. Confused but polite nonetheless, Dillan accepted the hand. "What for?"Maggie asked.

Malcolm's grin only widened. "Your young child here gave the bridge crew the greatest laugh this side of the solar system. Embarrassed your brother too, no doubt. Imagine a man of his education having to explain where all the "poop" goes."

Spatterings of answering laughter sounded from around the table. I glared down at Malcolm. "A curious mind is a healthy mind, Malcolm. I'll answer any questions without embarrassment." I noticed a few mouths opening, and added, "when I'm on duty."

My mother grinned up at me, then suddenly stood. "Oh, look where my manners have gone. Here we are talking your ears off, and you haven't even been able to change yet. Right this way, Malcolm."

I gently pushed her back down to her seat. "Relax, mom. I can show him where everything is. I used to live here, y'know."

She rolled her eyes at me, then said to Malcolm, "I hope you don't mind, dear, but we're a little tight on space. We had to stick you on a cot in Trip's old room."

Mal assured her that would be fine, and I didn't feel the need to tell her that even with us sharing the bedroom, we would still each have more room than we were alotted on Enterprise, despite being officers. I led Malcolm in through the French doors at the back of the house, connected to the kitchen. Connor had apparently grabbed our bags from the front porch; they now waited for us at the bottom of the stairs.

"This is a beautiful house, Trip,"Malcolm offered, as we started up the staircase. I nodded my agreement.

"Yeah, it is, isn't it? I never appreciated it growing up, jes' cursed the lack of privacy." I fell silent then, knowing that I would give anything to have Lizzie knocking on my door in the middle of a make-out session with Rachel Gordon again. I reached the stop of the stairs, and paused for a split second. There it was. Her room. I was vaguely aware of passing my bag to Malcolm, and pointing him in the direction of the last door on the left. He seemed to understand, and left without a word. I took another hesitant step forward, reaching out with outstretched fingers to touch the brass doorknob.

"It's hard, isn't it?"

I whirled around at the sudden voice, letting out a string of curses at the intrusion. Maggie stared up at me, not phased in the least. Her green eyes held a certain wisdom in them; she had definitely matured since I had seen her last. Without me being around, all of the duties of eldest child had to have fallen on her shoulders. It occurred to me then that as hard as it was being away from home when Lizzie was killed, I imagine it would've been worse being here. I nodded stiffly, not trusting my voice at the moment.

Maggie re-balanced the baby on her hip, and smiled sadly. "It's still the same in there; nobody's moved anything. I still haven't gathered up the courage to go in."

She reached out to take my hand lightly in hers. "It must've been really tough, being out there when you learned about all of this."

I coughed quietly, then said, "I was just thinking it would've been harder being here." Her hand tightened reflexively on mine, then she was gone, moving down the hallway to her own childhood room.

It was a long few minutes before I was able to move again.

A/N: The Bedford mentioned here is the same Bedford that Sim mentioned in Simultude. I simply reasoned that if such great advances were made in human medicine at that time, why couldn't pets lives be extended as well?


	2. Malcolm

A/N: I have to thank all you guys for the reviews, they really help keep my motivated. Also, I'm not entirely sure I like the way this ended, but as usual, please let me know what you think. I've got a lot of ideas for conflict between Trip and his dad, butgetting to that point might be an issue. So please bear with me!

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He thought he was being subtle. He thought he could put one past the Chief Tactical Officer of Earth's first warp faring starship. He thought I believed that I was invited on this visit to help me forestall a reunion with my own family. He thought I'm as dim as a low wattage light bulb on its last legs. I know he asked me to come to act as a shield between him and his grieving family. Despite popular belief, I do understand human behaviour rather well. Especially that of Commander Tucker. I know he has great difficulties asking for help, and while under normal circumstances, would never consider manipulation as a means of operation. But desperation has dulled his sense of honour and ethics. I also know that he probably views his invitation as beneficial to all parties involved, and so does not quite see it as strict manipulation. All in all, though, I don't mind. Trip made an effort to get past my own misplaced defenses to become perhaps the best friend I have ever known, and I don't have any qualms about helping him. Even if it has to be done in a clandestine manner.

I waited patiently in his childhood room for him. By peering out the half open bedroom door, I could see him standing in front of a closed door at the head of the stairs, apparently struggling with himself in some fashion. No doubt it was Elizabeth's room. It had surprised me, to say the least, when I put two and two together and realized he hadn't been to see his family since before she had been killed. It shouldn't have come as a surprise, though, given that the only time he spent on the surface after the attack had been with me by his side. The surprise lay in the fact that he had avoided the reunion all together. I had always assumed that Trip was close to his family, probably after witnessing the intensity with which he grieved for his youngest sister. I had wrongly assumed that he would find comfort from being in their presence. But so far, the ony times I had really looked at him since arriving, he seemed wound tighter than he had been on Enterprise.

Instead of giving in to the ridiculous temptation to spy, I set my bag down on the cot Mrs. Tucker had mentioned, and turned my attentions to the room around me. It was hard for me to imagine a fifteen year old Trip inhabiting this bedroom, bent over that desk finishing a school assignment due the next day, or laying back on that single bed, reading what he had called "graphic novels." The walls were covered with authentic, antique movie posters sealed carefully in plastic, giving rise to my belief that his appreciation for cinema hadn't simply come of a need to break up the at times monotonous routine of space life. A few shelves installed over the head of his bed showcased a variety of different trophies for what I believed to be athletic pursuits, but when I stepped closer I was slightly astonished to see medals awarded for intellectual accomplishments as well. Chess tournaments, math contests, things that I never would've associated with Trip the first day we met.

I moved past the trophies to his desk, running my fingertips over the spines of technological manuals stacked there. A lone sketch pad sat in the middle of the surface, looking laughably out of place next to the diagrams and technical readouts. I glanced carefully at the door, then flipped the book open to a random page. My eyebrows immediately rose in shock. I was looking down at a charcoal sketch of a young girl, crouching on the grass in the flexible way only a young child could manage. She was facing a long haired dog, arguably the very same Bedford that I had seen wrestling with Trip earlier. Her chubby fingered hand was stretched out towards the dogs muzzle, and although the child's face was hidden, I was certain she was Elizabeth. The drawing showed emotion and a depth of creative talent that I wouldn't have thought capable of one so technical. If Trip had indeed drawn this, then he had just challenged another one of my misconceptions about engineers in general.

A slight creaking sounded from the doorway, and I whirled around as though I had been caught with my hand in the proverbial cookie jaw. Trip stood in the doorway, looking blankly past me to the open sketch book on his desk. "Did you draw this?"I asked, after a long, quite awkward silence. Wordlessly, he nodded. I frowned for a moment, held tilted askance as I studied him. Although for whatever reason I hadn't noticed before, with the sun shining in on him through the window his rather deplorable condition was made quite obvious. Skin that was usually tanned golden brown, despite months spent locked away in engineering, was pale and almost a sickly gray colour. The dark bags under his eyes only added to the overall stressed appearance. I wondered briefly if he had looked this badly on Enterprise, and I simply hadn't noticed, or if this new condition had coincided with our arrival here. I turned back to the sketch, lightly tracing a complicated curling pattern that made up the child's hair.

"Trip, it's fantastic. I had no idea you were an artist."

"Yeah, well,"he said gruffly, having recovered his speech. "I'm not. As least, not anymore." He brushed past me in two long steps, grabbed the book off the desk, and shoved it unceremoniously into the back of the closet. "They're all waiting for us down there; I'm gonna get changed and head out." He grabbed his duffle from the floor, and after plopping it onto his bed, started rooting around for suitable casual clothes. "The next door over on the right is the bathroom. We gotta share with Todd and Connor, but it's not too bad."

I nodded, and dug into my own bag, pulling out a plain grey t-shirt and loose black pants. With a handful of his own clothes he left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. I changed in record time, but even so when I opened the door it was to find Trip sitting on the wooden floor in the hall, back against the railing waiting for me. He was wearing a pair of old blue jeans and a white button up shirt. I offered him a hand, and hauled him to his feet.

"Look, Malcolm. They've been a little desperate for information lately. Don't let 'em stronghand you into tellin' 'em anything against regs, okay?"

I favoured Trip with a long, low lidded look. It was hard not to take his words as a doubt to my dedication to Starfleet; instead, I took it as he meant it. Friendly concern. "You have nothing to worry about. I may be a pushover where my own family is concerned, but I have no problem standing up to other people's."

He smiled, the first one I had seen on him since the Captain had ordered us off the ship, and nodded. "Good. And I didn't mean to sound like I was doubtin' you, or anything. But I know firsthand how difficult it can be to turn down my family when they get all pouty."

Despite myself, I grinned. "So that's why Captain Archer always sends you on the good away missions. Perhaps you can give me some pointers on a suitable puppy dog expression."

He smirked, shoved me subtly towards the stairs. "It's a gift, Malcolm. I couldn't teach it to you anymore than you could teach me that impersonal officer routine you do so well."

Still chuckling quietly to myself, I made my way down the wide wooden staircase, with Trip clambering down behind me.

"Well, I suppose I should give you the grand tour,"he offered as soon as the soles of his socked feet touched the tiled floor. Without waiting for my reply, he had taken me by my elbow, and led me into the first room on the left hand side of the front hallway. "This is the living room; as evidenced by the tv, stereo, and children's toys, it's very much lived in."

The wall at the front of the house was largely made up of a giant picture window; the afternoon sun filtered in through pale yellow lace curtains. A line of couches ran along the length of the wall opposite us, and across from that was a sophisticated, highly complex home entertainment centre, no doubt made possible by the man who now looked on the plasma screen with unhidden pride. My eyes narrowed as I noticed a strangley famaliar piece of equipment woven deep in the intricacies of the video player. I pointed to the offending piece of machinery.

"Trip, is that a Starfleet issue-"

"Right through here is the dining room." He took my elbow again, skillfully deflecting my question, leading me back out the way we had come, past the staircase again, and into the other room at the front of the house. A giant twelve seater highly polished dining room table took up the majority of the space, with an equally as well cared for china hatch adjacent to the room's only window.

"This table is incredible." I reached out with a hand to run my fingertips along its smooth surface. Beside me, Trip mirrored my action.

"Yeah, it is pretty neat, innit? Had it as long as I can remember."

"Why don't you tell him about the time you ruined Christmas with this table?"

We both looked up suddenly at the unexpected voice, and whirled at the intrusion. I knew my eyebrows nearly disappeared beneath my hairline in surprise, but for the life of me I couldn't wipe the expression from my face. Were it not for the rounded ears, and a slight discepency about the mouth and jaw, I could've sworn I was facing Lorien, Trip and T'Pol's son of a different...I lost my train of thought when I glanced up at Trip, standing rod iron straight next to me. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscles grinding set in stark relief against his pale skin. His hands opened and closed uselessly at his sides, as though he could imagine someone's throat being enclosed in his fingers. Now suitably troubled by my friend's rather intense reaction to this visitor, I turned back to the unknown man, sub-consciously taking a defensive stance before him.

"Hello, Father,"Trip ground out, with a voice that would've made more sense in the body of a Klingon warrior. The visitor inclined his head slightly in greeting, and Trip- Wait a minute. Father? But... that reception would've fit better at a Reed family reunion, not in this house with this man next to me. If someone before that moment had told me that Charles "Trip" Tucker the Third was capable of that kind of obvious cold rage, I would've told them it was more likely of me to take up playing the banjo and record my first country-western album.

"It's good to see you, son,"the man who I now assumed was Charles Tucker the Second replied. Suitable proof then, that I was not simply hallucinating this whole exchange. Hallucinations rarely answer back in conversation with people other than the hallucinator. Still, this suitable proof did nothing but flip my stomach end over end.

Trip snorted sarcastic laughter. His stance had relaxed somewhat; I realized that the first sign of hostility had been a knee-jerk reaction, then. I, however, was uncomfortable letting down my guard just yet. This man might have been Trip's father, with evidence supplied by both parties, but I didn't trust this man farther than I could throw him. Uphill. Into gale force winds. With a boulder tied to his back. "Yeah, I'm sure you're feeling nothing but fatherly relief right now."

Heavy concern flooded the other man's features, and he clicked his throat in disappointment. "Surely you believe me when I say I'm relieved beyond words to see you alive and well. And with a friend."

His gaze turned to me suddenly, as though I hadn't been there during the previous exchange, and had only just transported in. "Malcolm Reed, sir,"I stated, offering the man my hand. I might hate him based solely on my perception of Trip's reaction to him, but I had been raised a gentleman. A half a day in the company of no one but Trip Tucker was not going to change that.

"Pleased to meet you, Malcolm,"he answered, with another inclination of his head. "I'm Trip's father. Charles Tucker the Second. Charlie."

I nodded in understanding, and without realizing it stepped back into a military 'at ease' posture; feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind the small of my back.

"So how did you two meet?"Charlie asked, sending an askance glance at his son. I waited a brief moment for Trip to reply, but when no words came from his side, I said quickly, "we serve together on Enterprise."

Charlie smiled, as wide and disarming as Trip himself was capable of. It was alarming, how a gesture could seem so friendly and unassuming from one man, and just plain nasty from another. "That's very interesting, Malcolm. I have many questions I'd like to ask you about that, but before I do, I believe a shower and change of clothes are in order. It was a long day at the office. If you two will excuse me..."

He turned slowly, and headed away from us, up the stairs, as it occurred to me to wonder how early his day had started if he considered ending at two o'clock in the afternoon long hours.

I waited until the footsteps had faded into silence above us, and twisted around to look with concern on Trip's face. I had expected to see...well, I'm not entirely sure what it was I expected to see on his face. But it certainly wasn't what was there in actuality. Trip's chin had dropped to his chest, he was staring at his toes with a look of almost -despair? -worriment? terror?- written across his features. As close as I was, I could see his body trembling slightly. I laid my hand carefully on his arm, but he jumped nonetheless.

"Trip?"

When he didn't respond immediately, I dragged a chair over from the table and gently pushed him down into it. Kneeling in front of him, I made sure I had his attention before attempting again.

"Trip? What was all that about?"

Heretofore, his gaze had been unfocused, largely unseeing, but now I could see his focus solidifying on my face. "That was..."he trailed off, chin drooping to his chest once more. "That was horrible." He stood suddenly, shook himself as though he were a long haired dog dislodging water from his folicles. "I'm sorry, Malcolm. That was hardly the tour you deserved."

I watched with slight astonishment as he tucked the chair back in under the table and continued on through the dining room to the kitchen. I followed him dutifully, but removing the frown from my face would've required non-recommended use of a phase pistol. Something wasn't quite right here, and being the good tactical officer that I was, I was determined to find out what.

It turns out neither Charles Tucker the Second, or Charles Tucker the Third gave me much to work with after that inital confrontation. If you could've called it that. After the dining room incident, Trip and I returned to the patio, whereupon we sat with the remainder of his family and feasted on a wild assortment of peeled sliced fruits. Whatever poor attitude he had adopted while around me was dropped the minute he stepped out onto that cedar deck. Trip was nothing but a charming gentleman to the rest of his family, saying all the right things at all the right times, and doing just about everything in his power to cause my disquiet to grow.

And ten minutes later, when Charlie entered the picture, it was with a big smile, and a kiss on the cheek to all those in attendance. Well, save for myself, Todd, Trip and Connor, of course. He pulled a spare lawn chair over, and reclined next to his wife. I watched Trip carefully but covertly as his father popped a piece of pineapple in his mouth, but Charles the Third gave no indication that there had ever been a problem. This meant either one of two things; I had read the situation entirely wrong (which came to be exceedingly more unlikely the more I thought about it) or Trip was a far better actor than I gave him credit for(as unlikely as this option was in itself, when compared with its company, it was definitely the more plausible of the two).

We spoke of nothing of great importance, skillfully answered questions about life aboard Enterprise without revealing too much, and deflected those that would be considered 'breaches of security.' I found it a great deal easier to deny these people answers to their more invasive questions than Trip gave me reason to believe possible. Apparently the Tucker pout doesn't work on Brits.

I managed to keep up my end of the conversation, dutifully responding to any remarks directed to me, and even piping in a few of my own. Even still, it was difficult not to feel overwhelmed. If I had gone home, I would be sitting down to afternoon tea with my mother and father, listening to their long winded discussion of how I've managed to bollox up my life. I would certainly not be surrounded by laughing people, with a delightful young child hanging on to the sleeve of my shirt, asking me how it felt to "blow up the bad men."

An hour after we sat down to this rather informal lunch, the aforementioned but previously absent Aunt and Uncle whose name I had long since forgotten arrived, carrying with them at least a dozen boutique style bags. The reunion was started afresh, and after the Tucker family hug had broken apart, I was introduced to Uncle Frank and Aunt Sheila.

"You're British?" I could tell right then that Uncle Frank and I weren't going to get along.

I nodded politely though, and said, "Yes, that's right."

He grinnded, nodded himself as though he was sharing a great secret with me. "I did business with one of you Brits a few years ago. Good bunch of people."

My eyebrows raised fractionally, and I glanced across the deck to Trip, fuming at the vague twinkle of amusement I saw in his eyes. I looked back to Uncle Frank, who was studying the selection of lunch meats and vegetables as though he had grown disinterested in our conversation. If it could be called that.

"Yes, I like to think we are."

He nodded again, then patted me on the shoulder on his way over to the table. I watched him go with a look of mild astonishment.

"He's quite a character, isn't he?"

I turned to the source of the sudden voice, and smiled at Trip's oldest sister Margerat. The baby that was usually in her arms was missing; in her place was a plate full of fruits and turkey. She must've noticed my reluctance to respond, because her smile broadened. "It's all right, Malcolm. You can say it, we all know it." Her voice dropped to a conspiritorially whisper. "He's not the most popular person here."

I looked on as the people closest to Frank slowly drifted away to join in on different conversations. "I can see that."

She plucked a wedge of orange off her plate, and popped it into her mouth. "So exactly how close are you and Trip?"

The question was voiced casually, but I could detect undercurrents of concern that she seemed unwilling to express.

I shrugged. "Pretty close, I suppose. He's my closest friend onboard Enterprise. Why do you ask?"

"I'm worried about him,"she began without preamble, a trait I knew she had to have picked up from Trip himself. "He doesn't seem himself. Almost...subdued, y'know?"

As reluctant as I was to speak about my friend behind his back, I recognized this for the sisterly worry it was, and nodded. "I've noticed that as well. I've never suffered a loss as painful as your family has, though. I don't know what to do to help."

She reached out with a hand and laid it gently on my arm. "I'm sure what you've been doing so far has already helped." Her gaze shifted to something past my shoulder; she seemed lost in thought. "As silly as it sounds, when I found out what happened, the first thing I thought of was how Trip was doing. He and Lizzie were so close, and he was so far away when it happened...I can't imagine how awful that must've been."

I looked across the deck to where Trip had his young niece in his arms, cooing at her as if they were the only two people out there. He hadn't exactly let me in on his thought processes after the attack. Actually, it was more accurate that he had intentionally pushed me away. But one didn't have to be close to the Commander to see how deeply affected he was by the attack.

"It was a difficult time for all of us, but especially for him. He was the only one on board who lost someone in the attack."

Margerat nodded thoughtfully, her brow furrowed in thought. "Malcolm, I want to help my brother. I know he had some issues he needs to work through, but I also know he won't accept help from me."

She looked up at me, blue eyes widening slightly. I smiled my agreement and understanding. She was looking for a partner in crime, then. Trip would most likely be too stubborn for the usual approach, but I doubted he'd be able to stand up to the two pronged assault. The fact that Margerat was sympathetic to my cause was a great relief.

"I'll do what I can."

...tbc...


End file.
